


Hold me so tight I’d bruise

by Scarlett_Rogue



Series: Non-Human Jaskier [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: A harpy with no wings, Affection, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Fluff, Geralt wants to show him that he’s beautiful, Jaskier is insecure about his scars, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Rimming, Scar Kissing, Scars, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, harpy Jaskier, scars and all, touch-starved jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Rogue/pseuds/Scarlett_Rogue
Summary: Jaskier is insecure about the scars on his back where his wings once rested. Geralt uses his hands and lips to show the bard how beautiful he is. Then there’s smut for like one paragraph.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Non-Human Jaskier [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653451
Comments: 7
Kudos: 534





	Hold me so tight I’d bruise

The first time Jaskier kissed Geralt’s scars the Witcher found himself holding back tears. Jaskier was so gentle and thorough, grazing his lips over once-battered skin, eyes reverent like he was staring at a work of art. Geralt squirmed under his gaze - he wasn’t accustomed to such displays of affection. Jaskier smiled at him softly and began working his fingers into the scars, massaging his skin, and Geralt groaned, allowing his eyes to flutter closed. From there Jaskier took him apart slowly, leaving him a sweating, gasping mess. He felt the bards touch even as they lay silent and still, slipping into a comfortable sleep.

Now, as he stared down at the two large gashed scars running along Jaskier’s shoulder blades, he felt that he was finally able to return the favor.

Finding out that Jaskier was a harpy was surprising to say the least, but more than that it was _embarrassing_. Geralt was a Witcher; he should have known from the get go. But Jaskier’s scent has always been clouded by the enticing smell of orange blossom and almond oil. Even after a bath, when his natural scent should have been most strong, he smelled of lavender and warm vanilla lotion. If Geralt picked up on anything inhuman he certainly couldn’t identify it.

Now it was different. He pressed his nose to Jaskier’s back and breathed it deeply, pulling the deep-rooted harpy smell from the man. It was sweet and sharp, something feral lingering under the facade of innocence. He leaned forward just so and pressed his lips against the same spot, kissing up the line of the scar where Jaskier’s wings one rested. Now wasn’t an appropriate time to ask how he’d lost them, especially given the vulnerability, the unusual hesitation in those blue eyes. No, that conversation would have to wait.

“You’re so beautiful,” Geralt breathes against warm skin. Jaskier shivered and peaked over his shoulder at the Witcher.

“Not the prettiest sight to behold,” he said softly. Geralt let his lips fall open and sucked gently over his scar. Jaskier gasped, his head falling back slightly. Geralt couldn’t stop himself from reaching a hand up to thread through those brown locks and tug ever so gently, earning himself a breathy whimper.

“I disagree,” he said after a pause of silence. With his other hand he worked his thumb in small circles through the other scar, working the knots out of Jaskier’s back. Despite his wings being long gone he still held more tension in that part of his back. Geralt guessed that only the external part of his wings were missing; the parts inside his body must still be intact, putting strain on his back. His posture was that of a human - it could very well be causing him harm.

“Lay on your stomach.”

Jaskier went without complaint, discarding his pants along the way, sprawling out across their shared bed. Geralt took a moment to appreciate the curve of his bare ass before he went back to work. This time his lips traveled downward following the line of scar tissue. They were long, settling just above the small of his back. He sucked and bit the skin softly as his hands moved to knead at the warm skin of his ass. Jaskier moaned and wiggled his hips.

_“Geralt”_

“Let me take care of you,” he answered. His lips continued to travel downward until he met the crease of Jaskier’s ass. Spreading his cheeks, he dipped his tongue in against that tight ring of muscles, groaning against Jaskier’s hole, as the other man bucked and gasped. By gods, he could _taste_ that inhuman sweetness, tainted by something so wild that it drove him crazy.

He was going to take Jaskier apart piece by piece, just as the bard had done to him.


End file.
